My Journal
By Harriman Nelson
3
I’d hoped Lee would be back
from Blind Services by the time Seaview sailed, but we had a schedule to keep.
I joined Chip in the
conning tower and watched as we cast off, Chip relaying orders to O’Brien who
relayed them to the Chief and he to…well, you get the idea.
It was as we were headed
into the Santa Barbara harbor that we saw Lee had made it back to NIMR in time,
if only to stand on the NIMR outcrop to ‘see’ us off. I was glad Ames was with
him, as visions of Lee falling off the cliff danced in my head. When I’d
proposed fencing, Lee had been adamant that it would distract from the natural
beauty of the property. Always thinking
of others, that boy.
I heard a slight gasp from
Chip and I too noticed that Lee was blindly saluting. Technically improper as
he had no cover, Chip returned the salute as the few crewmen topside did as
well.
Lee’s salute was a long one,
whether to the colors, the boat, or to Chip and I, until he had to be nudged by
Ames to end his salute when we were almost out of view. I know my arm was
beginning to ache and was frankly relieved when we could do likewise. Not that
he’d seen us. But I’m sure Ames had told him.
Even so, Lee stayed where
he was, just blindly staring out, ignoring Ames, who was trying to encourage
him back toward the office buildings.
By the time Chip gave the
order to prepare to dive, we could still see two dots on the outcrop far behind
us.
“All systems green, Comma…’Skipper’,
” Chief Sharkey said stressing the last as soon as Chip and I returned below
deck.
I saw Chip’s forehead
wrinkle at that, but he was too busy with getting Seaview below to make much of
it right then. But I knew he hadn’t been expecting it. And he hadn’t been
amused by it either.
By lunchtime, one or two of
the other men had also used the term, somewhat hesitantly, but following
Sharkey’s lead. Whether he’d suggested it or bullied them into it, I’ll never
know. But like a loyal hound, he was hell bent on having the crew oblige Lee’s
plea.
By supper, Chip had been
‘skippered’ to death, and was ready to climb the wall, er, bulkhead, and
finally took matters into his own hands.
“Now hear this!” he ordered
as he clicked the mike, just inside the Wardroom. “I may be Acting Captain, but
I sure as hell am not the ‘skipper’. I hope I’ve made myself clear.”
“But sir,” Chief Sharkey
responded on the PA, “it’s tradition and…”
“Tradition be damned!” Chip
shouted, then looked at me. “Did you know about this?”
“I knew Lee…wanted it,
yes,” I replied softly, apologetically.
“Oh he did, did he. Well, I
don’t!” he said and clicked the mike again, “ I may be referred to as Mr.
Morton, Commander, or if you insist, as ‘Captain’, but no one is to refer to me
as ‘skipper’ and as Acting Captain of Seaview at sea, that supersedes anything
Lee…Captain Nelson-Crane may have suggested or even ordered! Anyone who uses
the term except for him is on report!”
After having vented his
frustration, and slammed the mike back into its cradle, he turned to the mess
specialist assigned to setting up the sideboard, “What’s for supper? I’m
starved.”
“Spam Hawaiian, sir,” the
specialist said, proudly removing the lid from the covered dish.
“Spam Hawaiian? No kidding?
That’s something my mother always made for my birthday! Cookie?” he hollered,
“get out here!”
“Sir?” Cookie appeared from
the gate in the ‘tween through’, wiping his hands on his apron.
“What’s this all about?
I
thought Spam was nixed by the skipper.”
“It was, sir, to stop the
Admiral from ordering anything more from Army surplus, but he overruled himself
and requested it special for you this trip. Enough for leftovers too.”
“Oh. Thank you…”Chip
managed and just stood staring at it. “He…he didn’t have to do this.”
“He wanted to, Lad,” I said
and helped myself to a serving, adding a few extra pineapple chunks to insure
I’d be able to stomach it. I might have ordered Spam in the past, but that was
for the heavy nutritional value and long shelf life. I wasn’t partial to
actually eating it myself.
“I feel guilty as hell,”
Chip whispered, “first taking his boat from him, and now this…”
“Chip…”
“Damn it, I don’t know
whether to get down on bended knee in gratitude for the Spam Hawaiian or to punch
him in the nose for going blind! Oh, hell, Admiral, I didn’t mean it that way.
He’d just better get his sight back or I’ll stop believing in everything….”
“I know,” I replied,
patting him on the arm. “We all feel the same. Lee may have given up on
himself, but nobody else has.”
It was evening when I
had Sparks put a call through to Lee from my cabin. I knew Lee would be at his apartment, and I’d insisted
he accommodate me
in having a videophone there. For no other reason that I’d requested it and
that way I could see for myself if he was okay, had he agreed to it.
When there was no answer, I
had Sparks call NIMR security. Apparently Lee was still in the office.
“Damn,” I said to no-one
in
particular and waited for my call to be transferred to his office.
“Admiral?” Ames answered,
the call having been routed to the outer office instead of Lee’s.
“Ames, what are you doing
there this late? Why didn’t Lee pick up?”
“I’m here because there’s
a
heck of a lot of paperwork. Lee’s at
Sharkey’s. Commander Jackson arrived, you know they go way back, and Lee
insisted he show the chief’s diner off.”
“Ah, of course. Well, I’m glad the commander could drop
by….and Ames, do try to stick with the naval discipline we use at NIMR? We have
to be ready if the Reserve Board ever drafts us for official work and using ‘Lee’
instead of ‘Captain’ won’t bode well if
you forget.”
“Yes sir. Any messages for
him? I’m about to go, I can call him or send you to his voice mail….”
“No, no messages. Have a
good evening.”
“Yes sir,” Ames smiled and
closed the call.
I had to smile as well.
Jackson was looking after Lee, even if Lee wasn’t aware he was in effect, a babysitter.
I wished I could be a fly
on the wall, but there was another way to take a peek.
“Are you sure about this,
sir?” Sharkey asked in response to my request that he see me in my cabin.
“I just want to see for
myself that he’s there. Jackson is a fellow spook buddy of his…”
In seconds, Sharkey had
Sparks enter the code for the diner’s security cameras to be relayed to my cabin's videophone.
“Where are they?” I asked.
“Let me adjust the pan. Ah,
there they are, sir. I’ll stop the pan. Sorry there’s no sound.”
Indeed Jackson and Lee were
engaged in a heavy conversation, their meal pretty much consumed, several empty
mugs gracing the table. Suddenly they were laughing and began to arm wrestle.
“I wonder what that’s all
about.” I mused.
“Oh, he does that sometimes
with Mr. Morton when they can’t decide who’s going to pay the check. You, um, okay now, sir?”
“Not really. I’ve
been a doddering old fool...it’s a hard business learning to let him be
independent while he’s blind.”
“It won’t be for long, will
it sir? I mean….”
“The doctor believes the optic
nerve swelling just has to go down a bit more. But…nothing’s for certain yet.
Okay?”
“Yeah, but I’ve been
praying awful hard, sir.”
“Me too, Francis. Me too.”
After awhile I headed to
the Nose to join Chip and enjoy the view, the spotlight illuminating the
bubbles and sea life beyond the viewports.
“Mr. Morton?” Kowalski said
approaching, brochure in hand. “The skipper asked me to give this to you before
we shoved off. I’m sorry I forgot sir. It’s nothing important, just a tourist
guide showing all the tea houses where you’re going. I’m surprised ‘cause you
hardly ever drink the stuff. I bet he doesn’t like it either as he has some of
the places marked with red ink x’s so you avoid them.”
“Ah, well, there are tea
houses and there are tea houses,” Chip said.
“Huh?”
“It’s just his way of
reminding me to make sure I don’t end up in jail. Long story….dismissed.”
“Aye sir,” Ski replied,
confused.
“Jail?” I asked.
“Let’s just say that what
I
thought was a bone fide tea house with honest to God geishas, wasn’t a tea
house at all. And the geisha’s were… well, they were geishas but…um….ahem….”
“They were ‘ladies of the
evening’?”
“Yeah. And just when Lee
was dragging our butts out of there when we found out what it was, it was
raided by the cops. He never told you about that, did he?”
“No, I’m afraid not.
Apparently he still has some secrets from me.”
“Only to protect my
reputation, sir. I think he’d tell you anything if you wanted him to. Sort of.
Well, maybe.”
Just then Cookie came down
the spiral ladder, which wasn’t easy as he was carrying two steaming mugs.
“Evening, sirs. Thought you
might enjoy a nightcap….my special blend. Hot mocha.”
“Thank you, Cookie,” Chip
said as he accepted the mug. “By the way supper was great. I look forward to
any leftovers.”
Cookie grinned, happy as a
clam.
“Cookie?” Chip added, “did
the skipper ask you to report if I liked it or not?”
“Er, no sir, well, not
exactly. But Mr. Ames said he wanted to know if it went well. Something about needing
data for his spreadsheet.”
“I see. Thank you Cookie,”
Chip said effectively dismissing the man, then, “sneaky SOB, that Lee.”
“Just wants to make sure
you’re happy.”
“I won’t be happy until
he
has the conn and I can go back to being my good old XO self.”
“Well, at least Cookie can
report that your taste buds and tummy are happy.”
“That’s for sure. I’m
really surprised more of the crew didn’t like it…I know you struggled with it.”
“Well, perhaps it will make
good cold sandwiches...or not.”
I’m about ready for bed,
and am thinking about lunch tomorrow. Spam Hawaiian sandwiches. Oh joy.
